X
by Gryphon2
Summary: A simple tale of two favorite nuts from the mix. 'Tis the season...
1. Chapter 1

The murmur of the night called in the language known only by predators of the highest distinction. As always, Hannibal Lecter heeded the call.

At his side was a still, sleeping form, a woman sleeping in utter peace. He watched her, as he did every sleepless night, the mystical sheen cast by the full moon causing her platinum crown to glow, as if surrounded by a blue halo. He pulled back the satin sheet draped across her, and the smooth touch of the light caressed her exquisite form in one long stroke from the backs of her calves, across her delectable derriere, to her gleaming back. Her arms were buried beneath the soft, down pillow, and the curves of her breasts were clearly visible where they pressed against the sheets.

She was no longer haunted by the demons of the dream realm. But what of his peace? Where was his solace? He'd long waited for his absolution, but the gods were silent. Or perhaps they spoke in a language he did not know? Was he doomed, then, forever to await that which would be denied him even as it was bestowed upon one so close to him, so that he would spend the remainder of his years taunted by the knowledge that the blessing existed, simply not for him?

Cruel fates! Gods that give and take for amusement alone. How could he not appreciate that? He would take their power, once again, to appease his torment.

"Sleep then, Starling!" His guttural growl accompanied his brutal self-sacrifice as he plunged his Harpy deep into her beautiful back and deboned her like a fish.


	2. Chapter 2

Just kidding.


	3. Chapter 3

Hannibal lovingly gazed at his beautiful wife, her alabaster skin gleaming an invitation to his willing hand. His fingers lightly brushed the visible side of her breast. He knew the caress would set off a series of spasms as the ultra-sensitive nerve bundles there were connected to several highly responsive muscles.

She moaned softly, and then promptly drifted back to sleep. Hannibal frowned. He stared, willing her to awaken, but she remained in peaceful slumber. He tried a few more tricks that usually met with success, all without response.

Clarice was indeed awake, and trying desperately to keep from showing it. It was hard when he kept inciting her muscles to fluttering activity. She eased one eye open to glance at the clock, which indicated it was, indeed, the dead of night. Her husband had warned her that he was a nocturnal creature, and she had tried—really—to accommodate his preferred schedule, but she was most assuredly an 'early to bed'-'early to rise' kind of country girl. She didn't even mind that he watched her while she slept, but that hadn't been enough for him these last several months.

She felt his hand at her hip and another at her shoulder and knew he intended to flip her over. When he did, it was a combination of sleep deprivation and simple outrage at his selfishness that brought her harsh fist squarely to his jaw.


	4. Chapter 4

Kidding. Really—this _IS_ my sense of humor.

I'm sorry to put you through this silliness. But now you'll understand why the proceeding story is not the purely humorous parody I'd intended when I sat down to write it. –Which is okay, because I've always wanted to select the 'Horror' category from the pull-down menu. It always seemed odd to me that it never applied to any of my Hannibal stories…

'til now MWAHAHAHA

…_disclaimers to Thomas Harris and Stephen King and anyone else who cares…_


	5. Chapter 5

"Oh, it's beautiful! Look, Doc, that's where we're going to live this winter!" exclaimed Clarice. "Aren't you excited?"

They'd just rounded a corner high up on the mountain road that afforded a magnificent view of the valley below.

"Yes. It's lovely, mother," he replied sedately. She looked at him with a curious smile. He was always so serious. She and Hannibal battled over the matter of the education of their son, but for the time being she reigned victorious and her little Hanni was to have some semblance of a normal childhood upbringing. Well, as normal as it could get, considering the circumstances. Not only were his parents an odd pair, but he was an odd child. He was more than precocious—he seemed almost prescient at times, more so than even his father, and she wondered just how much of the truth he was aware of when he began reciting the story of the doomed Donner party the locale brought to his mind.

"And exactly how did you learn of that charming story?" she asked, tossing a suspicious glance at Hannibal's carefully bland expression.

"From TV."

"What did I tell you about television, young man?" The voice was menacingly quiet; Hannibal Lecter stern was a man you didn't want to mess with. His son used the only weapon he had against his father: his mother.

"Mother watches television."

Hannibal gave Clarice a look that spoke volumes, much of it sounding like 'I told you so.' Clarice turned in her seat to look her son full in the face before gritting, "You're six years old—wanna see seven? You're to be in bed at those hours, and NO television. Ever! Comprende-tu?"

"Oui, maman." He wore the same poker face his father used, but Clarice heard her own sassy tone in his voice and her heart melted. He was the best of them both as far as she was concerned. She loved her son beyond reason and couldn't help but to lean over the seat to plant a loud smacking kiss on his soft cheek. He rolled his eyes, and she smiled because, for once, his baby-fat padded cheeks didn't seem so out of place on him.

Her glance crossed Hannibal's as she resumed her seat and the smile faded. There was still so much about her husband that she didn't understand. She knew he was quite capable of a loving relationship with another person, as evidenced by the year preceding the advent of Hanni. She'd been floored more than once by how very tender and loving he could be. It was only the memory of that version of him that had allowed her to forgive him over the years for his aloofness with their child, but she fully intended to rectify their problem in the coming months.

They hadn't had much trouble eluding the authorities until their son turned five and was enrolled in the best school in Geneva, where his keen intellect had attracted much attention. They'd moved fast, but things were tougher now that the FBI was aware that not only was she alive and well, but was also part of the newly notorious family of three comprised of Hannibal 'The Cannibal' Lecter and their son.

This winter caretaker job in the secluded resort was perfect for turning their still warm trail ice cold, but her real goal was to learn the truth about Hannibal so she could heal the rift between father and son.

At the massive double-door entry framed on either side by beautiful stained-glass lites, Clarice battled with the lock, but the key was jammed solidly. She turned and descended the steps to where her husband was unloading the Mercedes-Benz ML430.

"Hannibal, can you hand me the tool box, please? The lock's stuck. Hanni! Come back here, honey!" she yelled at the curious little boy wandering towards some seriously anal hedgery.

Little Hannibal junior obediently returned to his mother, but not before he snipped an offensive bit of shrub from the snarling topiary guarding the entrance to the enchanting maze. And it was only he who heard the scream of the beastupon losing its unwise tongue.

He hadn't pouted when his parents had declined his request for a Harpy like his father's. When they'd specifically stated that he was never to lay his hands on a Harpy, Tony had urged him to go online and find a Spyderco Merlin, which was practically the same other than having a lighter heft than the Harpy—and it had a pleasing reversible clip that well served his peculiar ambidexterity.

"Here, I'll get the door," Lecter said as he easily hefted the two largest suitcases and walked up the stairs to the entrance. He reached for the key, prepared for a struggle, and was surprised when it turned effortlessly and the door swung open. The hinges groaned like an angry giant, the monstrous sound reverberating throughout the cavernous interior of the behemoth called The Overlook.

Hannibal and Clarice looked at each other. Clarice shrugged.

"I guess it likes you better," she muttered and walked in, Hannibal close behind her.

Outside, Hanni stood on the lowest step and watched as the cutting he dropped seemed to crawl back towards the lion from whence it had come.

They found a thick sheaf of instructions on the counter at the reception area, headed by a brief letter of apology that no one had been able to meet their arrival. There were passwords and instructions for the office computer, the email address she was already familiar with, and a number to call should they find the detailed job description insufficient instruction for the care of the facilities. Clarice flipped through the pages, as they toured the main areas of the immense structure.

Hannibal made little disapproving noises as he took inventory of their store of food. How was he expected to survive the winter?

"I'm going to have to make a trip to Denver before the first snow."

"They've already had their first snow, and you're not going anywhere."

"Clarice, I—"

"—will stay put with your family. Here, where it's safe. It's too dangerous out there." Her tone brooked no argument, and he pushed aside the desire to rebuke her for her rude interruption, settling instead for working out a ration for the two cases of supplies he'd brought along.

It was going to be a long six months.


	6. Chapter 6

"These quarters are entirely unsuitable," said Hannibal. Clarice quite agreed, though not for the same reasons Hannibal objected to the caretaker's apartment. It was not the tiny kitchen nor the simple furnishings that she didn't like, it was the fact that the space was oppressively sad. She noticed Hanni standing out in the corridor. Even he felt it.

"But we can't turn on the heat for the entire facility. I don't think we have a choice."

"My dear, we always have choices. Our choice today is to forego a very unsavory six months in favor of more comfortable accommodations. Our stipend should cover a good portion of the expense, and we'll be gone before anyone makes it up here after the snow breaks."

They explored a few rooms off the main corridor and selected a spacious suite near the elevators, and Hannibal left to see whether it would be possible to rig the backup generator and heater to these rooms. Otherwise, they would have to either depend upon the few cords of wood when the power went out, or move into the dreaded apartment. Clarice shuddered and started unpacking.

They'd settled into an easy routine, the care of the immense property not overly taxing in such capable hands. Clarice spent quiet days in the library or surfing the net on the office computer. Hannibal went about his errands, and spent the rest of his time in the piano lounge, or sometimes drawing in the main room.

Their son explored.

Hanni heard the odd noise long before he came upon its source. He'd never seen such a thing, though its purpose was quite obvious from its mechanics. It was silent now, as if inviting him, and he looked at it with inherent disdain, its vulgar red and yellow plastic construct loudly offensive in the quiet. He turned to make his way back to the main hall through the seemingly endless corridors, but it seemed as if the halls rearranged themselves to lead him always back to the same spot.

The third time he found himself outside the door to room 217, he thought he heard sounds behind the door. He leaned closer and heard animated voices and music, as if from a distance. His fingertips were just brushing the doorknob when the obnoxious conveyance made a second appearance at the intersection near the head of the corridor. It turned to face him, and then was once again still and silent.

Hanni paused briefly, torn between his curiosity of what lay behind the door and how the mechanism with the big wheel operated without an apparent power source. Deciding upon inspecting the room, he reached for the doorknob again, but had to desist and make a run for it as the thunderously approaching Big Wheel threatened to run him down.

When he finally reached the main hall, he breathlessly turned to look just as the frightening apparatus disappeared behind a distant bend in the corridor. He patted the Merlin in his shirtsleeve, and gathered himself before deciding to leave it be for the moment. He wasn't frightened; he just wanted to go back for it prepared. That's all.

He hurried down the grand staircase to find his mother.

Only a week after their arrival, the snows had come, bringing gloom. It was the first bright and sunny day they'd had in a month, and they were blanketed in a sparkling wonderland when Clarice tried to gather her men.

"I'm perfectly capable of finding suitable entertainment indoors. You two may proceed with such silliness if you feel it necessary."

"C'mon!" Clarice pled, "It'll be fun! There's no one to witness your 'silliness,' Hannibal. We'll even let you name him!" She looked at Hanni who merely shrugged his concession.

"How generous of you, but no, thank you." He buried his nose in his book until they'd left him.

After a few minutes, he moved to the lounging area on the upper level of the main room where the view from broad windows encompassed the entire foreground of the property. From there he could see his wife and son efficiently building a snowman. He watched as Clarice instigated a snowball fight and was subsequently pelted by a very accurate young arm. A part of him longed to join them, and he sat back in his chair, admitting to himself that it was far more than an aversion to snow and indignity that kept him from sharing in their festivities.

"Noooooo!" The harsh scream seemed to echo throughout the cavernous room, startling Hannibal enough that he dropped his book. In a moment, he caught his breath, realizing the scream had only resounded in his head, a memory from his past; his dreams had been suffused with the cries ever since they'd arrived here. He picked up his book with a shaking hand, and moved away from the window.

Outside, Clarice screamed as another tightly packed snowball hit her squarely in the head, "Ouch!"

"Are you all right?" Her son ran over to help her off the ground, concern etched on his face. She waited until he'd bent over her before smashing a handful of powdery snow into his face, laughing maniacally.

"No fair!"

"And who says I fight fair?" They tussled briefly and she gave him a bear hug. "C'mon, let's finish him."

They got up and dusted off, examining their six-foot monstrosity. "He needs a face," said Hanni.

"Well, let's see," Clarice looked around. "Why don't you go get a carrot from the kitchen, and anything else that we can use. I'll look around for stuff out here."

"Okay," he scuttled off as Clarice headed for the garden.

He bounded into the lobby, and immediately quieted his step; something about noises in the building troubled him. He made for the kitchen and something caught his eye as he passed the banquet hall. He gasped, coming to a complete halt at the sight of the formally dressed banquet table, his father in tails at the head of the table.

His breathing was loud in the eerie silence as his father extended his hand and gestured for Hanni to come to him, and the boy very likely would have done so had the face not broken into a broad smile.

The boy blinked hard in disbelief and the image disappeared. The table was once again hidden beneath a drop cloth, the room empty. After a paralyzed moment, he turned and ran for the front door, but slammed into another body rounding the corner.

Mouth open, hand on his Merlin he turned to run back the other way, but was grasped by his collar from behind.


	7. Chapter 7

"Slow down, young man." The familiar cool tone his father used to address him was a welcome sound and he turned to face him. He had nothing near a smile on his face, and for once, Hanni was supremely grateful.

"Father," he panted, and hoped his father would attribute his breathless state to physical exertion.

"It's impolite to run indoors, even when there's no one around. Where were you off to in such a hurry?"

"Mother said to get some things for the snowman's face."

Hannibal noticed traces of fear in the boy's eyes, and his own recent experience had brought thoughts of Mischa to the fore, making him more sympathetic than he usually allowed himself to be. He made an attempt to comfort his son with a pat on the shoulder. At the awkwardness of his gesture, he sighed and made another attempt by offering to help him collect the necessary accoutrements for his project.

Hanni looked suspiciously at his father, but gladly accepted his help for he did not wish to have to tell his mother that he was too afraid to go to the kitchen.

"Are you certain using perishables is a good idea?" Hannibal asked as he handed him a crooked carrot.

"What else should we use? We might find stones for the eyes, but I'd like some olives, just in case."

"Well, I suppose they'll keep in the cold." He opened a bottle of pimento stuffed olives, handing him a few. "They're green, but they have pupils." His son didn't laugh, and he felt a vague sense of failure as Hanni simply thanked him and left the kitchen.

Alone, he chewed on an olive as he replaced the lid and took it to the walk-in refrigerator. As he leaned across a few boxes to put it on a shelf, the door behind him slammed shut, the sound of the pin lock sliding closed causing him to call out a warning to open the door immediately. All he heard was muffled laughter and footsteps retreating.

Hanni walked out the front door and immediately sighted his mother bending a tall shoot that had grown out of the back of the lion he'd tangled with upon their arrival. For just a moment he'd thought the enraged lion had swiped a gargantuan paw at his mother, but then saw that she was only snagged by another errant branch. He could only watch in horror as she finally snapped the twig, the words from the beast replaying in his mind:

"Who'll tell me my secret,

The ages have kept?--

I awaited the seer,

While they slumbered and slept;--

"The fate of the man-child;

The meaning of man;

Known fruit of the unknown;

Daedalian plan

Clarice bent down to unsnag her sweater from the branch and noticed something protruding from the snow. She grabbed it and pulled and realized it was a scarf, but it was wrapped around the base of the huge topiary and one of the branches seemed to have grown right through it. She struggled to unravel it and proudly carried it back to the snowman, her cuttings in tow.

"Look what I found! It's perfect," she told Hanni, as she wrapped it around the snowman's neck. He handed her the carrot and olives and she planted them in the face. Next she stuck one branch on each side of the center sphere for arms. Taking some brick colored gravel she'd found in the maze, she created a big smiling mouth and stepped back to admire their work.

"So, Doc, I guess you get to name him," she said, smiling.

Hanni became very still as a voice rang in his ears, his sixth finger twitching. Clarice recognized the look that often preceded one of his odd fits. Every now and then, he would slip into a state of near comatose, and she rushed over to him now.

"Hanni! Honey, I'm right here. I'm right here." She rocked him gently, preparing to carry him to his father when he suddenly seemed to shake loose of some invisible hold, and said:

"Jack. His name is Jack."


	8. Chapter 8

In his refrigerated cell, Hannibal broke out into a sweat.

The light had gone out and it was dark. The stench of aged excrement permeated the air and the cold boxes and packages around him felt like just so many frozen bodies. A beam of light shone through a small crack in the door and he closed his eyes, willing himself out of his nightmare.

A voice spoke in the darkness, and his eyes flew open. He didn't recognize the voice and could see nothing in the darkness.

"I said, 'Why don't you take a look at what's going on out there?'" the voice repeated.

"Who are you?"

"I'm only here to help. I suggest you follow my advice and take a look."

"No. I know what's out there."

"Now, how could you possibly know what's out there if you won't look?"

"I've seen it thousands of times. I will not see it again," he huffed now, chilled to his bones.

"You mean to say that you've witnessed this before and never stopped it?"

"I—I couldn't!"

"Why not?"

"I was too small. I was just a little boy!"

"Well, are you still a little boy?"

Hannibal thought for a long moment, and whispered, "No."

"You mean to say that you know what's happening out there, and you're now a grown man, and you still won't stop it?"

"I—I can't. I'm locked in."

"How do you know? Have you even tried the door?"

"It's locked. I heard him lock it!"

"You mean to say that you'll accept what's happening out there without even trying the door?"

"Who the hell are you?"

"I told you, I'm only here to help. If you like, you may call me Marcus. But won't you even _try_ the door?"

Hannibal got up and slowly reached out for the handle, he hesitated and received another gentle urging, "You must hurry, or it will be too late."

With that, he swung the door open to the bright, bright kitchen. Mischa lay on the butcher block screaming as a man held her down with one hand, wielding an axe with the other, and Hannibal screamed her part in the drama:

"Noooooo!"

He ran towards them, but it was as if he were running through water, the harder he tried to hurry, the slower his movements became. Meanwhile both faces had turned to him, and Mischa was pleading with him.

"Hanni! Hanni!" Tears pouring from her wide, frightened eyes. The man swung the axe down and silenced Mischa's cries, then gave him a frightful grin and ran off at top speed.

Just then, it was as if Hannibal had broken through a barrier and was able to move freely again. He rushed to where his sister lay and held her head to her body, willing for some miracle to occur, but her beautiful, bloodied face remained in silent repose. He brushed a hand tenderly across her round cheek, his vision blurring as he bent to kiss her.

He stood and turned, his movements intentionally slow now as he picked up the axe that lay on the floor.


	9. Chapter 9

Clarice tucked Hanni in. He was always drained after one of his episodes, and she worriedly ran a hand across his forehead, brushing his hair back from his face. Even Hannibal had no explanation for these occurrences, and she wondered—not for the first time—if he cared enough to really look into the problem. Sighing, she went to run a hot bath.

Hannibal Lecter had never been a 'warm fuzzy' kind of person, and guided by her outraged maternal instinct, her thoughts once again turned to wondering what it would be like to have a loving father to her child. It was as if he was just going through the motions, and she had to wonder what kept him with them. But he did love her—or he had, at one time. She wasn't sure anymore.

She let her eyes drift closed as the warm, fragrant water soothed her. She was oddly calm when a pair of hands rested on her shoulders and pushed, stroking forward, cupping her breasts, massaging them and teasing the nipples. She tried to open her eyes and turn to her husband, but found herself too lethargic to move, her eyelids too heavy to lift.

One hand drifted lower, slipping between her thighs and she sighed as it stroked her to a low heat. A finger penetrated her and she moaned in delight before realizing the finger was thicker and rougher than Hannibal's fine boned hand. Shocked, her eyes flew open to see blue eyes in a handsome face leaning over her.

"John? John!" she gasped.

"Hi, Starling." He smiled and continued probing her beneath the water. "Does it feel good?"

"Oh my God! But how? You—"

"Nothing can stop love, Starling."

"I don't understand how you can be here. I thought you were dead. I must be dreaming!"

"Do you dream of me often, Starling?" His hand was working faster now, and Clarice grasped his wrist to stop him.

"We can't do this! I'm married to—"

"I know. You have a beautiful son. He's smart and strong, just like you. What happened, Starling? You were the best agent I knew. How could you end up like this?"

"You don't know anything about my situation. I love my son!"

"I know you do. What about your husband?" he asked softly, and resumed finger fucking her. "Say you'll let me be a father to Doc, a husband to you?"

His velvet voice and unrelenting hands were having the desired effect on her, and Clarice couldn't help her eyes drifting closed as she felt the tremors begin deep inside. Convinced it was all a dream, she gave in to the sensations and gripped the edges of the tub as his finger reached deep inside her. Through her orgasms, she became aware of her son's voice coming faintly from the bedroom, her turmoiled mind finally registering the litany as it grew louder:

"I do not like thee, Doctor Fell,  
The reason why, I cannot tell;  
But this I know, and know full well,  
I do not like thee, Doctor Fell."

Her eyes flew open at the nursery rhyme, his voice louder now, sounding as if he was standing at the door. She looked up and saw that John Brigham's handsome face had evolved into a blatant mess of decomposing flesh over bone, his blue eyes shriveled like raisins in his eye sockets.

Clarice let out a shrill scream. She flung out her right arm and knocked him away. The bones fell into a pile on the floor, one finger erect amongst the rubble, still moving. Sloshing water everywhere, she jumped from the tub and threw a robe around herself as she opened the door.

Hanni stood there, holding up his extra digit in a mimic of the finger poking out of the pile on the floor, the finger bouncing up and down as he screamed:

"I do not like thee, Doctor Fell!"


	10. Chapter 10

Hannibal combed the labyrinthine halls, sniffing the air to catch a scent of his prey. He bared his teeth slightly as he prowled. A schematic layout of the corridors unfurled in his mind as he burst through door after door, leaving no room unsearched. He carefully approached a room with the door wide open, and saw someone dressed as a wolf servicing someone on all fours, dressed as a sheep. Hannibal watched in astonishment as the man grunted, abruptly stopping his violent rutting to turn and face him. It was old Jackie-boy! But how?

Lecter had no sooner begun to laugh at the preposterous sight than his world came crashing down as Clarice turned to face him, her face flush with exertion. He stared in disbelief. Infuriated, he hefted the axe to his shoulders and headed for the hapless fucker when something flashed in his periphery.

Turning, he just caught the tail end of something moving around the far corner of the hallway. But in the mere seconds he'd looked away, the spectacle in the room had disappeared. He looked around urgently. Where could they have hidden so quickly? Cursing, he decided to follow whatever had rounded the bend.

He would deal with Clarice later. Right now, he was after a murderer.

Clarice gathered the screaming boy into her arms and sprinted out the door, looking for Hannibal. What the hell was going on? 'I do not like thee, Doctor Fell?' Where the hell had he learned that name? And what drug had she taken to experience that bathroom scene? Damn! She pushed the memory out of her mind to keep from going insane as she searched from room to room.

She paused at the door to the piano lounge with the red, red walls and saw a man in a bar apron polishing shot glasses with his back to her. He turned to her then, and gave her a broad, warm smile.

"Daddy?" Her voice was a bare whisper, and the room whirled around her.

"Hi, hun," he said gently, as he set down a glass and filled it with her old friend Jack.

Clarice walked forward, as if in a daze, and didn't notice Hanni quietly walking away, still in his trance.

"C'mon and have a drink with your old man. Attagirl," he said as she slowly mounted the barstool, staring at him in shock.

"But—how? How can you be here?"

"I know, honey. You're not going crazy, I _am_ dead. But not forgotten, huh?" he joked, his voice gentle and sad. "You really have to get over it, baby. It really wasn't that bad."

"Not that bad? But you died!"

"Yes, but everyone does, eventually. At least it was just a bullet with me. There are a lot worse ways to go, you know."

"How can you say that? And what about me? Aren't you aware of what I had to go through when you left me?"

Her father wiped his big hands on his apron and took it off, saying, "I am very well aware of what your life has been. That's why I'm here. Come with me," he said, suddenly stern as he held out his hand. Clarice took it, surprised at how cold and bony it felt; nothing like it looked.

He led her out of the lounge, down the main hall and she heard the screams getting louder and louder as they walked.

"Daddy! No! Please, let's go the other way!" He said nothing, grasping her hand tighter, dragging her along.

Hannibal heard a faint echo of screams as he turned the corner and found himself ten feet from the elevators. In front of him was a little girl, her hand tangled in the dark hair matted to her face with blood, her blue eyes glazed with death. But she spoke—more like sang in her baby voice, an old nursery rhyme:

"The north wind doth blow,  
And we shall have snow,  
And what will poor robin do then,  
Poor thing?

He'll sit in a barn,  
And keep himself warm,  
And hide his head under his wing,  
Poor thing."

These last words she spoke with blistering contempt, and Hannibal could only stare openmouthed at his dead/alive sister.

"Mischa," he whispered, "I tried…" his voice trailed off.

Her eyes seemed to look through him, and she dropped the hand that was holding her head as she pointed and said, "You did this!"

For a moment, Hannibal thought horribly that she meant him, but then a harsh blow from behind sent him spiraling into darkness. He fell, even as he watched Mischa's unsupported head fall to the floor beside him.

A hand bent to retrieve the fallen axe.

Hanni rounded a corner and faced the dreaded Big Wheel for the first time since the day it had tried to run him down. It was parked before the door to room 217.

The shock was enough to bring him out of his trance and he pulled his Merlin from his pocket, prepared for battle. It was then the strange man with the axe walked around the corner ahead of him, calling:

"Daaaaaannnnnyyyyyyyy…" He stopped when he saw Hanni. "Son! There you are. I've been lookin' all over for ya. Where the hell ya been?" He slowly advanced forward, his features frightening and intense.

"I—I'm not your son," Hanni said, fearfully holding his ground.

"Aw, come on, Danny. Don't be that way!" he said, releasing one hand from its grip on the axe to hold it out beckoningly to the boy. "Come give your old man a hug!

"I'm Hanni, not Danny. You're not my father!" he screamed as the man approached faster, raising the axe above his head. Just then, the Big Wheel launched itself at the surprised man who started to run, before feeling ridiculous and stopping to face the toy.

Hanni slipped into the room to hide as the man ferociously mangled the plastic contrivance with repeated swings of his axe.


	11. Chapter 11

Terror swept over Clarice as she was dragged to the wide doorway of the immense banquet room from where the screams were clearly originating. Skeletons clothed in decomposing flesh milled about like lost sheep, their horrified wails echoing throughout the cavernous room each time one stepped forward and laid its head on the table, where Hannibal, his back to her, would lower the axe to send its head rolling to the pile gathering on the floor. In tears, she turned to face her father, who was saying:

"Is this how I raised you to be? Why are you crying?" Out of nowhere, he produced a bat and handed it to her, urging, "You know what you have to do."

Clarice's tears stopped as she stared at the bat, then looked back up into her father's face.

"B—but I can't!"

"Don't you want them to stop screaming?"

"Yes, b-but—"

"Then you know what you have to do," he repeated, thrusting the bat into her hands.

Lights flashed from behind the closed door to room 217, and voices roared in hideous screams, demented laughter, and always in the background was the music of Bach's great commissioned lullaby: the Goldberg Variations.

Hannibal gently eased his eyes open, looking around to make sure it was safe to get up. He was alone. Mischa was nowhere to be seen, and whoever had knocked him unconscious was gone—and so was the axe. He brought forth his Harpy.

Clarice approached the table slowly, trying to avoid touching the bodies around her.

_Thwak!_ She recognized the face of the poacher as his head rolled towards her. She looked then at all the other heads, and labeled each face with the crimes for which they'd been punished by judge, jury, and executioner: Hannibal Lecter. Her grip loosened on the bat and she turned to tell her father that he was wrong about Hannibal and was confronted by a snarling, six-foot snowman with green and orange eyes. Without a thought, she swung the bat and snow blasted across the room, raining in little droplets everywhere.

At the sound, the man in front of her turned around and she saw that it hadn't been Hannibal at all! Eyes wide, she held up her bat, "Who the hell are you?"

He swung the axe from one hand to the other, and laughed. "Wendy! Long time no see, babe!"

"I'm not Wendy. Look, I don't know who you are, but…" Suddenly, the absurdity of the moment hit her and she just turned and ran.

"Hey! Come back here! Wendy!"

She could hear him coming after her and ran faster, barricading herself inside the office. She heard him calling out for her in the lobby, and wondered where Hannibal was.

Hanni! Horrified that she had forgotten about her son, she looked urgently around the room for a weapon, but it seemed the bat would have to do. Her eyes landed on the phone. If the authorities sent out a rescue squad, Hannibal would surely be arrested. Fuck that shit, she needed help! She dialed 911 and got a message that all circuits were busy. What the hell? She tried again and got the same message, then tried the emergency phone number the manager had left them, and the other line rang, the shrill sound blasting through the room. What the hell? But she didn't have time to think about it as the door rattled.

"Hey, let me in! C'mon, open the door, Wendy!"

"I'm not Wendy," she yelled. "I'm Clarice Starling, FBI! Step back from the door and put down your weapon!" Where the hell had _that_ come from?

"F B I!" He dragged out the 'I' facetiously and continued, "Aw! Is there a little piggy in there?" He snorted like a pig. "C'mon, little piggy, come out or I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow—" the axe came crashing through the door, "—your house down!"

He stuck his face through the opening and grinned, "Heeeeeere's—"

Before he could utter another word, Clarice swung the bat directly into his face, hearing a crack as he fell back onto the floor, half his face sunken into his skull cavity. She quickly opened the door and stepped over him, bare feet slapping against marble as she ran in search of Hanni.

Hannibal heard Clarice calling for their son. One part of him understood what he'd seen her doing was impossible, but another part of him was unwilling to overlook the image. There had been times over the years when he'd wondered if she ever regretted her decision to be with him.

It was at that moment that his wife came running up the stairs, stopping face to face with him.

"Hannibal?" she asked warily, looking at his drawn Harpy.

"Clarice," he answered inscrutably, looking at her bloody bat. Had she been the one to knock him out?

"Where's Hanni?"

"I haven't seen him." There was a touch of menace in his voice, and Clarice feared the worst as she examined the Harpy for blood. There was none.

"We have to find him. There's something awful happening here and we have to go! Please put that away, Hannibal, you're scaring me."

"And why would you all of a sudden fear me? What have you done to be afraid, Clarice?"

"Damn it! Stop it, Hannibal! I'm in no mood for your games. We have to find Hanni and get out of here!" But she raised the bat as he started moving towards her, eyes fierce. "Get back, Hannibal! What's wrong with you?"

"If you say the name 'Hanni' one more time, I'll—" He raised his knife and Clarice, realizing she would never strike him, turned and ran.

The corridors seemed to swirl around her, and her heart pounded as she felt him right behind her. She twisted and turned and he lunged at her, their bodies crashing through a door. They both stopped their scuffling as they took in the sight of what was in room 217.


	12. Chapter 12

The room was filled with raucous screams, gunfire, and occasional slurping noises from a bank of video screens lining one wall. There were at least twenty of them and each screen bore a scene from either Hannibal "the Cannibal" Lecter's or Ex-Special Agent Clarice Starling's past.

And there, on the opposing wall, was little Hanni, hanging on the wall as if crucified. Clarice let out a yelp and ran to him.

"Oh my God!" A quick examination assured her he wasn't physically injured, and she could see no means to his support on the wall. She grabbed his waist, and with a tug, he came away from the wall into her arms.

She turned to Hannibal with a sob, "What the hell did you do to him?"

Hannibal looked at her in shock. How could she think he would ever harm their son?

"I had nothing to do with this!" He turned to the flashing screens depicting everything from Clarice's childhood to the demise of his most recent victim. Clarice also turned her attention to the screens and they stood like that for what seemed hours, watching their secret painful experiences broadcast for all their eyes.

At one point, they all seemed to break from their trancelike states and Hannibal walked over to his wife and son. For the first time in their lives he wrapped his arms around them both, and Clarice looked at him tearfully, whispering:

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He just shook his head and pulled Hanni from her arms to hold him, his hand pressing his son's head into the crook of his neck. He said simply: "I'm sorry."

The little boy just wrapped his arms around his father's neck and held on for dear life as the power went out and the room fell silent. Night had fallen and they could barely make each other out in the dark.

"Hannibal, let's get out of here," whispered Clarice.

"Come here." He pulled her toward the pitch hole of the doorway, pausing to pick up the fallen bat and hand it to her. "Take my hand and whatever you do, don't let go. Doc, you hold on to me. I need my hands, so don't let go, okay?"

"Okay."

They left the room, Hannibal guiding them in the absolute dark by his mental blueprint of the hotel. A deadly silence surrounded them as they made their way to the main corridor and saw the hint of light coming from the stairwell. The backup generator lit the reception area, and they gratefully emerged into the low-wattage light.

They all agreed that they didn't need to venture into the darkened halls to gather any of their belongings; they were just going to go, Clarice's bathrobe and all. As they approached the office, Clarice saw the door damaged as before, but the man's body was gone. Just as she was about to warn Hannibal, in the space of a blink, he appeared in the doorway, the mangled side of his head evidence of their last confrontation.

He faced them, but his hideous countenance no longer had the power to strike fear into the three who had just faced all their demons. They stood there, Hannibal with his Harpy, Clarice with her bat, and Hanni with his Merlin—which brought a look of surprise to both his parents' faces, but they quickly put it aside to deal with the matter at hand.

And just as quickly as he had appeared, he disappeared.

They all looked around in confusion. What had happened? The dim lights had brightened and the interior of the grand hotel seemed to take on a gleam so that everything shone, bright and beautiful. It was Hannibal's palace, Clarice's childhood kitchen. Surrounding them were the young, beautiful, healthy faces of people they loved.

John Brigham was handsome in his government issue. Jack Crawford was hale and hearty with a smiling woman at his side. Clarice's family was waiting happily for her to say something to them, her siblings and parents dressed in their Sunday best. Mischa stood, perfect and whole, in a lacy white dress, holding her handsome father's hand, who in turn had an arm around his lovely wife with the flowing dark hair. Everywhere, there were little white lambs skipping about, and a young mare that Clarice almost didn't recognize without the scars.

Both Hannibal and Clarice looked in wonder, lost and amazed.

Hanni just saw the Overlook.

There was a faint growl outside the entrance, and then another, more strangling kind of growl. There was a terrible sound, as of fingernails on blackboards and the images Hannibal and Clarice beheld wavered ever so briefly, but it was enough to bring them out of their dangerous reverie. Hanni ran to the door and swung it wide, running out before Clarice could stop him. It immediately slammed shut, a thunderous _bang_ ringing throughout the maze of halls, followed by an unnatural silence.

Something in that loud sound seemed to rouse the edifice, like some great beast from slumber.

Hannibal and Clarice looked at each other in horror as a terrifying scream erupted just outside the door.

"Hanni!" Clarice screamed. They tried and tried, but the monstrous door was immovable. Hannibal grabbed the bat and ran forward, preparing to break through a window, but was thrown roughly back with such force that he slid several feet across the polished marble floor. Clarice prepared to try to jump through the same window, but was stopped by a projectile that hurtled through it. It was a body, not Hanni's, but a man's. It landed several feet into the room and lay still.

There was a low rumbling under their feet and Hannibal gathered Clarice and moved toward the opening in the window, knocking out the few remaining shards of glass. Just as they climbed through, the rumbling stopped. The doors burst open, shedding light into the darkness where they saw a panting Hanni, standing in the midst of a large circle of debris, mostly leaves, his Merlin glinting in the light. Behind him, there was a steaming snowcat.

Hannibal and Clarice ran to their son, and only when he was safely in Clarice's arms did they turn to face the hotel. Hannibal and Clarice saw their beloved ones gathering at the door, they heard the cries, pleading with them to stay with them, arms beckoning.

"Please stay with us."

"Please stay."

"Please!" They pled, a cacophony of screams.

Hanni felt the hold gathering within his parents' hearts, and his blood ran cold. What he saw was the real thing: Danny Torrance, a grown man now, back in the hotel that had wanted him so desperately for so long.

He had spent more than a day traveling from a small island west of Kauai, the farthest he'd been able to get from Colorado without leaving the country. He had tried to help them as best he could through his contact with Hannibal and the old toy that had remained in the Overlook over the decades. It had never reopened after the incident with his father.

Somehow, a part of the hotel had gone with him when he'd escaped all those years ago. In his dreams, he was always still there in the hallways, the maze, running from room to room with nowhere safe to hide. It was a madness devised to bring him back, and when he isolated himself and refused their summons, they'd called another.

If anyone could truly understand the evil of the Overlook, they would understand how it was possible that it could have contacted a caretaker for its twenty-year unused facilities, how it could have an email address, phone number, and food supplies, let alone electricity to incubate its plan.

But it was over now, Danny thought. He was frightened, yet almost glad that his torture was coming to an end. He couldn't let them take the boy in his stead, and he would see to it they left his dreams alone. He went willingly.

His bloodied body was lifted from the floor, and he was held upright, suspended in the center of the lobby, his arms raised at perpendicular angles to his body. It started slow, the spinning, as they took him, his energy, by almost centrifugal force. But it started slowly. And he was still very much alive.

Hanni understood, and pushed away from his mother and ran, charging through the doors with a battle cry. He met Danny's eyes for a brief moment before he launched his Merlin across the distance and straight into Danny's heart with deadly accuracy. He died, his mouth forming a round 'no,' but it was the Overlook that sounded the word for him.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Came the unearthly roar.

Hanni was already outside and pulling his parents' into the snowcat. The mesmerizing effect of their visions had broken as soon as the Merlin had struck, and they were hightailing it out of there at a bone-rattling twenty-five miles per hour. Clarice looked back and saw the figure spinning faster and faster with a blue light flashing around it, and then it disappeared in a flash like lightning—there and gone.

Then came the thunder, a loud rumbling as the roof started caving in and big chunks of plaster fell, smattering powder that puffed out the door like a breath in the cold. Then, all at once, the building crumpled into a pile of rubble right before her eyes. Still unaware that the hotel was its own management, she said: "Oh, I don't think our stipend is gonna cover that."


	13. Chapter 13

Hannibal blinked his eyes in mild confusion as he came to, and felt a sharp stab of pain. He reached up and prodded his swollen eye, vaguely remembering the crack of Clarice's fist on his face. He looked over at her, no longer sleeping peacefully, but twitching and murmuring urgently. Reaching over, he gingerly shook her awake.

Clarice came out of her dream with a start, sitting up with a hoarse gasp, breathing hard. She turned to Hannibal and saw his bruised and swollen eye and looked down at her bruised fist. She felt a moment of panic, and quickly suppressed it, observing that his look was more contrite than angry. Still, she apologized.

"Oh, Hannibal, I'm sorry. I was just so tired. I don't know what got into me."

"It's all right, Clarice. I realize it was rude of me to have assumed you would want to forfeit sleep in favor of more…rigorous…nocturnal activity. We seem to have little time for that part of our relationship with…H-Hanni," he stumbled over the name, "around all day."

"Hannibal! Do you realize that's the first time I've heard you call our son by his name?"

Hannibal found himself feeling a little confused and wondered if he was suffering from a concussion. The dream had seemed so real that he was forgetting what she did and didn't know about his past. Gradually, he worked through the muddled memories of dream versus reality and decided it was time to tell her. But as he began to explain to her why he'd not only shied away from the name, but also a relationship with his son altogether, he saw her eyes widen as she whispered: "I know."

"You know? What do you know?"

"About Mischa." She was still whispering.

Their eyes widened and they both said at once: "Hanni!"

They ran from the room, grabbing up their robes as they ran out the door and down the hall to their son's room. They quieted themselves when they saw him lying peacefully in his bed, still tucked in. They backed out of the room and carefully shut the door, walking back to their room arm in arm as they discussed their odd dream experiences.

Throughout the morning, there were no recriminations for secrets withheld. Each word spoken was healing balm to old wounds, as they mapped a new path for their family's future. It was as if each of them had been exorcised of their demons, and left them behind in hell where they belonged. Things would be different now.

Down the hall, Hanni lay staring at the ceiling as the morning light shone through the windows. If you looked closely, you'd see any reflection in his bright eyes took on the shape of the Overlook Hotel.

_And the sum of the world_

_In soft miniature lies_

In Hanni's eyes.

Notes: The words of the topiary lion to Hanni were taken from "The Sphinx" by Ralph Waldo Emerson. Daedalus was the inventor and builder of the Labyrinth in Greek mythology.

_Well, I hope you've enjoyed my little tale. Please come visit us again sometime._

_Ta,_

_Overlook Management_


	14. Chapter 14

Boo!

_(That would have been a lot scarier if we had graphics capability—no, really…)_

Notes: The words of the topiary lion to Hanni were taken from "The Sphinx" by Ralph Waldo Emerson. Daedalus was the inventor and builder of the Labyrinth in Greek mythology.

_Well, I hope you've enjoyed my little tale. Please come visit us again sometime._

_Thank you,_

_Overlook Management_


End file.
